


The Difference Between Moths and Butterflies

by SandrC



Series: Not Another Fanfiction Collection [5]
Category: Not Another D&D Podcast
Genre: M/M, heavy handed metaphors about love, spoilers up to episode 54, two gay teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: "What about you, Bev? You have a favorite between the two?" Erlin asked.Beverly laughed a bit and shook his head, "Nah. That's more your thing anyway. I like hearing you talk about them though.""Then I'll point out every one we come across."





	The Difference Between Moths and Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with these two terrible idiot gay boys and I want them to be happy.

Erlin and Beverly were nine, running about in the small front lawns of the Upper Galaderon hill homes with all the joy and wonder of two small children who have been friends longer than they can remember. Erlin, covered in mud and grass, brought a large, white grub back to Beverly, a bright grin on his face.

"You know what _this_ is?!" He asked, practically bouncing in place. The small, fat insect undulated in his hand, wriggling it's nubby front legs.

" _Gross_?" Beverly hazarded. Erlin laughed in response.

"It's a Galaderon Gemcutter! But like, the _larva_ of a Galaderon Gemcutter!" Beverly looked at the grub and then back at Erlin, who continued explaining. "See, they live above ground as these guys for like...a month, then they burrow into the mountain and become a real pretty moth! It's got these stained glass wings and fuzzy antennae and it looks like a gemstone with all the colors! Then, like six years after they burrow in the mountain, they come out, all moth-y, and then make babies and die." This sobered Erlin a bit, though not much, as he still carefully cradled the grub in the palm of his hand like he was holding a treasure.

"The mountain's too strong for a bug to eat into it though," Beverly protested. Erlin was being silly! No way a yucky grub could eat into a mountain, nap for six years, then eat its way out and be a moth!

"See they're clever though," Erlin explained, "They can find little cracks in the hard rock and wiggle their ways in, eating the faulty rock until they come to a spot where they can metamorphosize in peace."

"That's a _big_ word," Beverly was awestruck at how smart Erlin was. Erlin looked rightfully proud.

"Then they take the same path out, only it's dirt instead of solid rock! The whole mountain is covered in grub-sized tunnels and then they fly about for a bit and it's super pretty!" Erlin looked down at the grub like it was the most valuable thing he'd ever seen. It was really sweet.

"You really like them, dontcha?" Beverly asked.

"Yeah. They get to change _so_ much and then _fly_! I think it's neat." Erlin nodded. Beverly gave the grub another look.

Yeah, it was fleshy and weird. It had pale blue skin—almost white with how washed out it was—and deep purple legs and mouth-bits. It had sharp little nubbin legs up front and sticky ones in the back. It had two big eyes made of a bunch of little eyes, the same reddish-purple as its mouth and nubbins. It worked its alien mouth-bits a bit, chewing on nothing and generating a glob of kinda green goo. Erlin didn't seem to mind though. He held on to it and let it crawl up and down his thumb, making sure it didn't fall off.

" _Yeah_ ," Beverly decided, "they're real neat."

"Hey Bev?"

" _Hm_?"

"Will you come see them when they're moths? The Galaderon Gemcutter? In six years?" Erlin had fixed Beverly with an intense gaze, focused and concerned.

Beverly gave it a thought. "You think we're gonna be friends in six years?"

"You _don't_?!"

" _Yeah_ , I guess you're right." He nodded. "Sure. I'll come see them leave the mountain. You and me."

Erlin lit up like Dancing Lights. " _Thanks bunches_ Bev!" Then he put down the grub and the two of them went back to Beverly's place where Mrs. Beverly's Mom had stickybuns made and clean clothes laid out, a warm smile on her face.

And it didn't matter that Mr. Beverly's Dad didn't say much to Beverly. All that mattered was that they were _there_ and it was fun.

* * *

Erlin and Beverly were eleven and spending their first few nights away from home on a Green Teen camping trip in the nearby woods. Cran and Durlin were already setting up their tents, even though Scoutmaster Denny had _begged_ them to wait. Erlin and Beverly were too occupied with looking around to worry about putting up the tents just yet.

 _Besides_ , Beverly was feeling homesick.

Erlin nudged Beverly in the shoulder, catching his attention and pointing up to a large winged creature gently floating past them. "See _that_?"

" _Yeah_?"

" _That's_ a Southeastern Couatl-mouth! You rarely see them out at this time of the day!" Even though the enthusiasm was real, Erlin kept an eye on Beverly, who followed his finger and the large insect with watery eyes. "That's good luck! _Gotta be!_ "

"Is that a butterfly or a moth?" Beverly asked.

"That one's a butterfly. It's _usually_ only around during high noon. It likes warm places." Erlin gestured about at the temperate forest they were in. Beverly was absorbed by his passion for the topic, his own homesickness seemingly forgotten. The Couatl-mouth flew about in the air, its bright pattern flashing every few seconds with every wingbeat. " _Sometimes_ ," Erlin said, "the Southeastern Couatl-mouth is mistaken for a baby Couatl, hence the name!"

"It's nice." Beverly isn't lying. It's not hard to tell when he is coz his nose scrunches up and he flicks his right ear. Now, in the twilight hours outside of Galaderon, in the wild and woods, waiting for permission to set up their tents, Beverly's calm as he leans against Erlang.

"There's a Northeastern Couatl-mouth too, though it's more commonly found in desert climates. Its scaled wings are dry and dusty but any rain dissolves them _like paper_." Erlin continued, a soft smile creeping across his face as he leaned against Beverly in turn.

Behind them, _begging_ them to stop trying to make a lean-to, Scoutmaster Denny tripped over a rock and busted his lip open. Durlin stopped what he was doing to patch up their Scoutmaster while Cran just howled in laughter.

"Hey Erlin?"

" _Yeah_?"

Beverly took a moment to think over his question, choosing each word carefully. "Which do you like better?"

"Which _what_?"

"Butterflies or moths? Which do you like better? Coz I know there's pretty moths and ugly butterflies but which is your _favorite_?"

Erlin thought about it for a bit, eyes focusing on a point far across the horizon. "I mean, if I'm being honest? _Neither_. They're both good in their own right. Butterflies are out and about during the day, so they're what _most_ people see, while moths are nocturnal so they get ignored unless they're sick or sneak past the bug zapper." He shrugged, jostling Beverly a bit, and let out a soft huff of air. "But moths show off their colors when they land while butterflies hoard it to themselves. Butterflies are flashes of color in movement while moths are browns and greys and greens in the dusky hours. Moths are fuzzy while butterflies are sleek. So I don't like one more than another, if I had to pick."

This gave Beverly pause. It was an honest answer, _true_ , but seemed to contain more than just what was at face value.

"What about _you_ , Bev? You have a favorite between the two?" Erlin asked.

Beverly laughed a bit and shook his head, " _Nah_. That's more your thing anyway. I like hearing you talk about them though."

"Then I'll point out every one we come across."

As the sun set, they watched the Couatl-mouth flutter off, unaware of the attention it had garnered. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

Now they just had to set up their tent.

* * *

Erlin and Beverly were fifteen and their town was burning. Everyone they knew were running or hiding from the onslaught as winged beings—only called angels by taxonomy, as they didn't seem to care about murdering innocents—set the streets of their home ablaze. Erlin, terrified for everyone and everything going on, pressed flat against the deck of an old, worn airship and watched as Beverly tore through dozens of soldiers and paladins alongside his Scoutmasters. Erlin, head filled with questions and fear and horror and sick relief, felt his heart skip a beat when Beverly kissed him deeply, pouring all their energy into a ritual to help Cran and Durlin and Mr. Bev's Dad and the remaining Green and White Knights escape Thiala in the Faewild. Erlin, eyes watering as they finally left home for the last time, slept poorly that night.

"You know," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "It's _selfish_ but...we never got to see the Gemcutters."

" _Yeah_ ," Erlin didn't blame Beverly for being taciturn. So much had happened that he, too, was having a hard time staying positive. "They're _gone_ , aren't they?"

The moths? Their family? Their friends? The people they went to school with? Beverly could be talking about anyone and anything _but_...

"I _hope_ not."

They could hope.

"Hey, _Bev_?" Erlin began, looking at him, then stopped. He was asleep, worried face smoothed out to content dreaming. It hurt a little, seeing him only calm in his sleep, but who could blame him?

Who could blame _any_ of them?

" _Sleep well_."

They'd see the Gemcutters later. Six years from now or twelve or _eighteen_. However long it took. They'd see the Gemcutters because they'd take back Galaderon. Beverly and his Scoutmasters would take on Thiala and win and Erlin would support from the sidelines, getting better and better at being a cleric so he could heal _every_ hurt Beverly got. And when they took back their home and their families were safe and the world _wasn't_ in any danger, _maybe_ they'd go on a date.

Maybe that'd be them seeing the Gemcutters.

 _Maybe_.

Until then, he'd be content with what he had. With being the moth to Beverly's butterfly. He'd let Beverly fly in the light while he sat under the light of the moon and waited patiently for his turn to be noticed.

Because he liked both of them _equally_ , moths and butterflies. And _besides_ , he had a longer lifespan than either of them. He could afford to wait for what he loved.

And _that_ was the rub.

So he'd wait however long it takes.

* * *

Beverly was almost sixteen and in an underground city in the Summer Court. He was hiding from angels and Chosen paladins as he sought out his dad in this forgotten castle town. Heart hammering, he looked about at the Faewild town and it's hidden secrets, heart wandering back to Erlin and how he must be doing.

Cran and Durlin did well for themselves, all things considered. Maybe _they_ , too, had a chance at a happy relationship after all.

As his thoughts carried him farther and farther from the task at hand, a flurry of movement caught his eye. Bright colors, flickering and flitting upwards. Beverly turned to stare and almost cried with relief.

 _Moths_. Hundreds of them flying upward, towards what would be the sky in this underground city. Moths with brightly colored bodies, stained glass wings, and fuzzy reddish-purple antennae.

 _Galaderon Gemcutters._ He got to see them anyway.

 _Yeah_. Everything would be alright. He'd see Erlin again for sure. Then they'd see the Gemcutters the next time they emerged, together, and maybe kiss.

But for _now_? His dad. The Faewild. Thiala. Then Erlin and the Gemcutters.

But he could wait. He had something to wait for, after all.

He had some _one_ to wait for.


End file.
